


They Hate You

by PekoIsBaby



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, Enoshima Junko Being Enoshima Junko, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I hate Junko, I use the first names of the characters because I'm a fool, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, all the thh characters basically, but those are the relevant ones, can I tag this as canon compliant and canon divergent, focuses on Ikuzono but the other ships are there I swear, god these characters make me Sad, like technically nothing changes but it features things that probably didn't happen in canon, my god, probably fits better but just so we're clear things will end up the same, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PekoIsBaby/pseuds/PekoIsBaby
Summary: Mukuro Ikusaba is worth nothing. Her entire life has revolved around her twin sister and partner in unspeakable crime, Junko. Without Junko, Mukuro would be better off dead.When Mukuro and Junko start at Hope's Peak Academy, Mukuro is prepared to be lied to. Prepared to be manipulated. Prepared to be hated by all of her peers.She is not expecting to love them.
Relationships: Asahina Aoi/Ogami Sakura, Ikusaba Mukuro/Maizono Sayaka, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg, Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 23
Kudos: 92





	They Hate You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on Mukuro and Junko's birthday (I have stuff written for other characters that I'll also post here) but I hadn't started posting my fanfiction at that point, so,,, here, have it now! Happy late birthday to Mukuro and Only Mukuro!
> 
> Like I said, I wrote this in A Day, so apologies for it feeling kinda rushed/poorly-worded/whatever. 
> 
> It is WILD to me that my first fic on AO3 is Ikuzono, it's definitely not my favorite DR ship, but I was pretty happy with this so I'm putting it up first
> 
> My love for Mukuro Ikusaba snuck up behind me and slammed me over the head with a book and I now owe it a life debt
> 
> I haven't watched DR3 so if this doesn't match up to canon I am Wicked Sorry
> 
> Uhhh pretty big spoilers for Trigger Happy Havoc and implied heavy spoilers for Goodbye Despair (it's a blink and you miss it type thing, but I figured I'd mention it because I don't want to spoil anyone), trigger warning for some pretty emotionally manipulative/abusive behavior and a lot of self-loathing - and also cursing, but given the rating that's probably not super surprising - let's go.

Mukuro Ikusaba (the sixteenth student, lying hidden somewhere in the school, the one they call the Ultimate Despair, watch out for her) hated herself. It wasn't something she thought about too often - instead opting to let it fester just beneath her skin, poisoning her veins and closing her lungs - but she'd known it for as long as she'd known anything.

She’d known from the moment she was born that Junko was the better sister. It was impossible not to—Junko was being scouted by modeling agencies before she could talk, and Mukuro was left to babble and cry and eat, the epitome of a normal, average baby. Junko always said that it was no wonder their parents had shipped her off to the army so young. They couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

Junko was cruel. Mukuro knew that. Mukuro knew that better than anyone. She’d lived it for years. Everyone could see the Junko who laughed at her sister’s incompetence, who whispered barbed remarks into her ear, who made her change her outfit again and again until Mukuro realized that nothing would ‘make her look good’ and that all Junko wanted was to see her break. But people didn’t see the whole story. They didn’t see Junko’s face soften as hot tears forced themselves past Mukuro’s eyes, spilling down her freckled cheeks. They didn’t see her pull Mukuro into her arms, whispering that it didn’t matter, that it was okay, that no matter how completely unlovable she was, no matter how much the world hated her, Junko wouldn’t leave. They didn’t see that, when Mukuro had been alone, stuck in the army with no one to turn to, a lost little kid facing atrocities her tiny mind could barely comprehend, Junko had been the one person who’d bothered to write. Nobody could see Junko Enoshima repeating over and over that, for Mukuro, she’d burn the world. She said it so many times that Mukuro might have even believed it.

Junko was bright, fiery, a case study in agonizingly slow spontaneous combustion. Both of the sisters knew that Junko was self-destructing, and that, sooner or later, it would overtake her, but the fireworks were so pretty that it hardly mattered to either of them. Mukuro couldn’t leave. Watching Junko work was the highlight of her day. She was her sister. She loved her more than she had ever loved anything.

At some point, Mukuro realized that even her hatred of her sister - and, yes, she hated her - was a kind of love. She was devoted to Junko. She’d do anything for her. She’d rage against her, scream and shoot things and cry, just for Junko to know that she was here and real and cared. Everything she’d ever done was for her sister. She was all that Mukuro had.

Then came Hope’s Peak Academy.

Mukuro stepped up to the gates of the school, heart pounding. She’d been explicitly told by Junko that this place - their acceptance into it, and their behavior once they entered - was important. She wouldn’t explain why.

“Just make sure not to fuck this up, ‘kay?” Junko didn’t look at her as she spoke. “We need to make a good impression, and I’m not gonna let you drag me down.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mukuro answered quietly, not looking directly at Junko, either. Tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear (she longed for a sparkly barrette or a silvery hair clip), she opened the gate for her sister.

Junko insisted that Mukuro enter the 78th class’s homeroom first (Junko wanted to be the last in the door, so that there was no chance of anyone forgetting she was there), so she got the first look at her fellow students. She recognized them all from the forums: the Ultimate Writing Prodigy engaged in a somewhat heated conversation with the Ultimate Clairvoyant in the corner, while the Ultimate Affluent Progeny pointedly ignored their rising voices. She couldn’t quite remember these people’s names, but she knew their faces well enough to recognize when the Ultimate Moral Compass rushed to greet her.

“Hello! My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru. May I ask who you are?” He stuck out his hand.

Mukuro felt a flush spread across her face. She wasn’t very social at the best of times, and she was sure her people skills were woefully out of practice. “Um. Mukuro. Ikusaba. It’s nice to meet you, Kiyotaka.”

“Please, call me Taka. I hope that we can help each other along our quests to better our minds and bodies during these years at Hope’s Peak!” As Taka spoke, Mukuro caught a guy with a giant blonde pompadour on his head mouthing along. He noticed her staring and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing to perfectly mimic Taka’s words, right down to phrasing and expression.

“You’ll have to study hard if you want to keep up, but you needn’t worry! I will be right here if you need anything!”

“Um. Thank you, seriously, that’s. Wow.” He was lying. Junko had warned her about this. She wondered if anyone actually bought this act. “I’m gonna go sit down, if that’s okay?”

Taka’s smile faltered slightly, but he saved face. “Of course! Like I said before, just let me know if you need any assistance!”

Mukuro nodded and sat down at an empty desk near Pompadour Kid, who leaned over conspiratorially. “He’s been giving the same damn speech to every kid who walks in here. I got it memorized by now.” He held out a fist. “Name’s Mondo Owada. ’S nice to fuckin’ meet you.”

Near him, a girl with huge black twin drills snorted. “Who is recycling their greeting now?” She grasped Mukuro’s hand - Mukuro flinched, but she ignored it - and pressed a kiss to the back of it. If she noticed the tattoo, she didn’t say anything. “My name is Celestia Ludenburg, or ‘Celeste’ if you prefer. You are Mukuro Ikusaba, is that correct?”

Mukuro knew her face was hot pink as she withdrew her hand, but she nodded. Celeste (was that her real name?) smiled slightly and turned away, leaving Mondo grumbling about “fuckin’ women thinking they can ride up here and… I’d fuckin’ punch that smirk off her damn face…”

Mukuro turned to her other side to see a boy with fluffy brown hair, speaking animatedly to a girl. She had long, deep blue hair, and bright, clear eyes the same color. She laughed at something that Mukuro hadn’t quite caught, and… oh.

This one, Mukuro recognized.

It was difficult to not know Sayaka Maizono, especially when your sister is the Ultimate Fashionista. Mukuro had spent a considerable portion of her time swearing up and down to Junko that in no world was Sayaka prettier than her (privately, Mukuro was aware that Junko didn’t need the assurance, but it was nice to feel wanted). Sayaka looked different in real life: less poised, more excited, maybe a little dorkier. She inhaled mid-laughter and choked on her own saliva, coughing hard. Mukuro couldn’t fully suppress a giggle.

“Oh! Hi!” Mukuro jumped to realize that Sayaka was talking to her. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. I’m Sayaka Maizono!”

“I know,” said Mukuro. Immediately, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”

The brunette beside Mukuro grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I said the same thing. I’m Makoto Naegi, by the way.”

Sayaka giggled. “Yeah, I figure introductions around here are pretty unnecessary. I don’t know your name, though.”

“Mukuro Ikusaba,” Mukuro supplied. “Ultimate Soldier.”

Sayaka frowned. “Aren’t you, like, fifteen?”

Before Mukuro could respond, the door swung open and Junko stepped inside.

That was the thing about Mukuro’s sister: When she stepped into the room, people looked. It was as though a window high above your head had exploded and flames had billowed out. She was impossible not to stare at, whether it was because of her beauty or her confidence or the shattered look just behind her eyes. Conversation died down as she spread her arms and yelled “What’s up, everyone? I’m Junko Fuckin’ Enoshima!”

“While I don’t appreciate the profanity, it’s very nice to meet you, Miss Enoshima!” As Taka launched into his monologue, Sayaka turned to Mukuro and Makoto, eyes wide.

“That’s _the_ Junko Enoshima? God, I’m pretty sure I’ve bought clothes that I’ve seen on her.” Mukuro knew. Junko brought it up all the time.

“Yeah, she’s… she’s great.” This was tricky. Moments before entering the school, Junko had made it clear: For these next few years, they were not related. They had never met. Mukuro was prepared to lie for her sister, but she was terrified of slipping up (not that Junko would’ve been surprised).

As everyone began to gravitate towards Junko, the only person who stayed seated was Makoto. He was staring at Junko with a look of pure concentration fixed upon his face.

“Aren’t you going to say hi?” Mukuro prompted. She was half-afraid Junko would blame her for distracting Makoto.

“Hm?” Makoto snapped from his trance to look at Mukuro. “Oh. No, I, uh… I’ve kind of been letting people come to me thus far. Sayaka and I knew each other in middle school, so it was nice to see her in my class, but otherwise… I dunno, I’m scared of everyone.” Makoto smiled, but it looked slightly strained. “Not to mention… between you and me, I get… kind of a weird vibe from her. It’s definitely nothing, but I don’t know if I want to introduce myself just yet.”

Across the room, Mukuro could see Junko’s eyes flick for just a second to land on Makoto. A chill of fear ran down her spine, but she wasn’t quite sure why.

“I know what you mean,” she murmured. The words tasted sour in her mouth, heavy with treason and betrayal. She said them anyway. Junko’s fingers twitched.

“But… anyway! Ultimate Soldier, huh? Isn’t that scary?”

“I mean, yeah, in some ways,” Mukuro said, relieved to change topics. “But you don’t get to be the Ultimate of anything without being really, really good at it, so I’m not too worried about myself. I’ve never even been injured.”

“Hellooooo!” Junko marched over and practically slammed her hand into Makoto’s desk. “What, you guys aren’t even gonna say hi?”

“Hi,” said Mukuro quietly.

“Hi, Junko!” Makoto’s face was immediately a perfect mask of friendliness. Mukuro silently reassessed her original impression of the boy.

“Hey, cutie. Didn’t catch a name.”

“O-oh, I’m Makoto.” He stuck out a hand, and Junko shook with a little more zeal than he was probably expecting. When Junko looked to Mukuro, she quietly said her name while staring at the desk. Junko was easy to love in theory, but being next to her got… overwhelming.

“Alright, you’re no fun. Can’t I even get a smile?” Junko leaned imperceptibly closer, and Mukuro felt her heart speed up in irrational fear.

“Um.” Mukuro forced her eyes to meet her sister’s, and she offered a tiny half-smile.

“Mm… no. You’re right. You’re way prettier when I can’t see your face.” Junko stood up. “Anyway, that’s it for me. Later, losers!” She bounced off to sit near the blonde guy that Makoto identified (with only a note of reverence in his voice) as Byakuya Togami. He looked deeply unimpressed by her arrival.

“Oh, she’s a bitch,” Makoto whispered. Mukuro nearly jumped out of her seat in surprise. “What? She is! Didn’t you hear what she said to you?”

“She’s not a bitch, she’s just… matter-of-fact, I guess.” Mukuro’s gaze flicked back to the table. “Besides, she’s right.”

“Hey- hey, no she’s not!” Makoto grabbed Mukuro’s hand (wow, people here were really touchy-feely, huh). “You’re really pretty!”

_They’ll say nice things to you._

“You really think so?”

“Definitely!”

_They just want something out of you._

“I really like your hair. Is that haircut a military thing, or just a style choice?”

_They’re lying to you._

Mukuro forced a smile. “Military. But I like it, too. Thank you.”

“It’d look great with something to pin it back,” said Sayaka, sliding back down into her chair. “And Makoto’s right, Mukuro. You look great! If you’d let me, I’d love to take you shopping sometime.”

“I…” Junko would hate that. But she was supposed to be blending in, right? “That sounds great. Sure.”

“it’s a date!” Sayaka’s smile lit up her whole face. She giggled at Mukuro’s expression. “It’s a turn of phrase, goofus. Maybe this weekend, if you’re available?”

Mukuro spent the whole day with Sayaka and Makoto. It was so strange, speaking to people and not even mentioning Junko. There were a few moments, however brief, when she wasn’t thinking about Junko at all. It was somewhat freeing, but it scared her. It was as if she was afraid that Junko was in her head, monitoring her, taking silent note of the moments when Mukuro laughed at something Sayaka said and practically forgot she had a sister.

That night, there was a soft knock at Mukuro’s door. She opened it to see Junko, smiling.

“Did you have a good day?” It almost sounded like she cared. Mukuro barely managed to fight off a smile.

“Yes, I-“

“Don’t get too cozy with them just yet. I think I’m going to explain my plan to you now, so listen up.” She marched into Mukuro’s room, slamming the door behind her. Mukuro followed like a kicked puppy.

They sat together on the bed, and Junko explained the plan in detail. It seemed she had every aspect sorted out: Who she needed on her side (the neurologist, a few businessmen that she’d already begun talks with, the entire class above them), what she needed to do (build trust, build machines, build a mascot to be the face of the operation) and Mukuro’s part in it.

“When we kick off the game, I want you to… well, to be me.” Junko smile was completely devoid of any real excitement, just… anticipation. “I doubt you’ll be any good, but if they don’t know what I’m really like, it won’t matter. You’ll put on a wig, try and talk like me, and these dumbasses won’t know the difference.”

Mukuro found her voice. “Junko, this is insane. I mean, the sheer scale alone-“

“I’ve got it all figured out.” Junko pulled out sheets of paper, with blueprints and letters and checklists that detailed the plan in full. “This is what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To bring everyone the despair they brought us? To show the world how incredible that pain really can be?” She let out a fast sigh, almost akin to a chuckle. “I’d be a god, Mukuro. That doesn’t excite you?”

“I mean, yeah! Yeah, it does, I just…” Mukuro fidgeted.

“Hey.” Junko placed a single, comforting hand over Mukuro’s. “You can tell me anything, you know that? What’s bothering you?”

Mukuro pressed her lips together. “They’re just... nicer than I expected them to be. And they…”

“They complimented you, right?” Junko’s voice was soft, nearly apologetic. “They hung out with you, said nice things to you… all stuff I’ve never done. You don’t want to hurt them. You think they’re your friends?” Mukuro silently nodded, and Junko hummed in disappointment. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I tried to tell you, I just- I didn’t think-“ her face collapsed. “I didn’t want them to do this to you. I should’ve told you sooner, but… I guess I didn’t think you would believe them so easily.” Junko shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Mukuro. “They’re lying to you, hon. Deep down, they think you’re just an ugly, stupid, useless girl that they don’t want around. But that’s how people are, right?” Her voice sounded so _sad_. “They’re selfish. They lie to people who are below them, feed them empty compliments, and watch as they bend to their every whim. It makes me sick.” She stroked a manicured hand through Mukuro’s short, dark hair (it didn’t feel pretty anymore). “But I’d never do that to you, understand? I’d never manipulate you. I love you so much, Mukuro. That’s why I’m so rude to you: because you deserve honesty. You deserve someone who tells you the truth. But those people… Sayaka, and Makoto… they’re just cruel. They’d do anything to get ahead, even manipulate a poor, stupid kid who doesn’t know any better.” Mukuro felt tears pricking the back of her eyes, and she closed them, letting the tears fall past her tightly-shut lashes. Junko raised a finger to gently wipe them away. “Don’t cry, Mukuro. I won’t let them hurt you anymore. We’re going to make them pay, understand? That’s why we’re doing this. For people like you, who always catch the sharp side of their ‘hope’. People for whom despair is the only option.”

Mukuro nodded. She felt so foolish. Of course Junko had been right. She’d been an idiot to mistrust her for even a second. Shame made her face burn red. Sayaka and Makoto - and all of the classmates, everyone who’d said anything to her - were responsible, she knew it.

She wanted to make them pay.

Mukuro spent the next two years lying.

She lied to everyone, of course, about her relationship with Junko. They’d gained a reputation for hating each other (Junko bullied her relentlessly, and Mukuro was glad to play the role of the beaten-down innocent), and they agreed to keep it that way.

She lied to Sayaka and Makoto. She went shopping with them, she hung out with them at lunch, she laughed at their jokes. She pretended she didn’t hate them most of all.

She lied to herself. She spent all her time with her new friends. She told herself she was forcing a laugh when Sayaka told her (with utter confidence) that she was psychic. She promised that she didn’t care that Makoto always had something sweet to say after Junko had finished a tirade. She swore up and down that she did not flush when Sayaka complimented her legs with a little more appreciation than she was sure how to deal with. She pretended she didn’t love them.

And she never told any of it to Junko. So, in a sense, she was lying to her, too.

Her first birthday at Hope’s Peak went by unnoticed, mostly because she’d been careful not to tell anyone (she and Junko sharing a birthday was a secret she wanted no one to draw conclusions from). She hoped to just slip by for the rest of her time at the school, never telling a soul about her birthday, but fate had other plans.

“Hey, Mukuro?” Sayaka looked up from her music theory homework. “I just realized that I don’t know your birthday.”

“O-oh. It’s, uh… it’s nothing. I’m not big on birthdays.”

“No way!” Sayaka shot up, grabbing Mukuro’s hands and pulling her up until they were sitting face to face on Sayaka's bed. “I’m gonna throw you a party. Just tell me when it is, okay?”

“I…” how was she supposed to get out of this?

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll go look it up. It’s in my handbook.” Sayaka’s eyes dropped, and her voice softened. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”

“…December 24th.” She almost hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but, as Sayaka brightened immediately, she couldn’t say she felt bad.

“Darn! I missed it this year, huh?” She squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to do something really special next year.”

“Actually, could…” Mukuro chewed on her lip, trying to find the words. “Could it just be us?” She told herself it was so Junko didn’t know that she’d given out her birthday, and not because she actually wanted to spend her birthday with Sayaka Maizono.

She was lying.

“Oh!” Sayaka seemed genuinely surprised, but a smile spread across her face. “Yeah, sure! Not even Makoto?”

“Not even Makoto,” Mukuro confirmed. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is! It’s your day, after all!” Sayaka lunged over and tackled Mukuro into a hug. “Aw, I’m all excited for it now! This is gonna be the best.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Mukuro returned the hug.

Mukuro shoved aside any real affection she had for her new friends. It was all a part of the act. All to get them to trust her.

_But if Junko’s plan works, they won’t remember that you exist. What’s the point in getting them to like you?_

Shut up, brain.

The year ended, and Sayaka, Mukuro, and Makoto exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. Junko allowed her to keep texting them, of course - it would raise alarms if she didn’t - but Mukuro was pretty sure that Junko read all her texts anyways, so she monitored herself carefully.

**Sayaka Maizono: I miss you**

**Sayaka Maizono: I mean, im really happy to be back with my group and stuff, but still**

**Mukuro Ikusaba: I miss you, too.**

**Sayaka Maizono: <3**

**Mukuro Ikusaba: That looks like boobs.**

**Sayaka Maizono: I take back everything**

**Sayaka Maizono: U are a bad person and I hate u**

**Mukuro Ikusaba: <3**

She told herself the interactions were to keep up appearances. Junko took plenty of time to remind her that Sayaka was lying. But it hurt to think about, so Mukuro would occasionally just… ignore it. Pretend, even for a second, that Sayaka Maizono actually cared about her.

That being said, summer was a great time to work with Junko on the plan. Mukuro had sent out messages to Fenrir, hoping that they could pull some strings and start chaos when things broke bad. Junko had been reluctant to trust the group, but Mukuro promised that, if she wanted things to go horribly wrong for a lot of innocent people, the army was her best bet.

She wasn’t sure if she felt guilt for their plan or not. After 16 years with Junko as her only companion, guilt was a concept she’d lost a lot of understanding of. She felt guilty for not being good enough for Junko. She felt guilty for hating Junko, in whatever capacity she did. She felt guilty for liking Makoto. She felt incredibly guilty for whatever was going on in her head with Sayaka. But did she feel guilty for indirectly causing the deaths of so many people? She was a soldier. She carried out orders. That was her job. That was all she could do.

Was she guilty for doing her job?

Junko said not to worry about it, so, mostly, she didn’t. But it nagged at her.

Going back to school was a relief. Sort of. She had to remember a lot of habits (don’t flinch when someone touches you, don’t take insults to heart when they’re playful, don’t apologize for everything you do) that had become rusty during her time with Junko at home. Still, when someone grabbed her from behind and wrapped their hands over her eyes with a cheery “guess who?”, Mukuro figured it wasn’t all bad.

“Hey, Sayaka.” She wrestled free of the pop star’s grip and turned to smile half-awkwardly. “It’s nice to… yeah.”

Sayaka giggled. “It’s nice to ‘yeah’ you, too. It was fun texting you, but it’s way better to see your face.”

“Yeah.” Mukuro nodded, face hot. “Yeah, same.”

They slipped back into their old routine pretty easily. Makoto was still hanging out with them, but he sat at lunch with them less and less as - much to the bewilderment of both girls - he started sitting with _Byakuya Togami_ of all people. Sayaka teased him relentlessly, to which he gave her pointed looks and said something about how “at least I’m trying to get my act together, _Sayaka_ ”. Mukuro wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was nice to watch her two best friends tease each other with so much warmth in their voices.

The year slipped by without much incident. The sixteen students of the 78th class of Hope’s Peak grew close. For most of them, that just meant friendship - almost akin to family in some ways - but Mukuro noticed other things, too. Mondo went from mocking Taka’s endless monologuing to hyping him up with undeniable fondness in his eyes. Hina and Sakura kissed in the back of the classroom while Sayaka laughed at them for scarring her "virgin eyes". Byakuya complained halfheartedly as Makoto sat on his desk and told him a joke he’d read online, lips pressed hard together to keep from laughter. Celeste didn’t say anything, but Mukuro was perceptive enough to see her eyes shift slightly when she looked at Kyoko.

And Mukuro was content to watch Sayaka talk about practically anything, or play a card game that neither of them fully understood the rules to, or eat an ungodly amount of candy while she sobbed about a TV show that they’d just finished bingeing together. She didn’t look too hard into what it meant.

The day of Junko and Mukuro’s birthday came with uproarious fanfare. Junko was, for all her rudeness and bad attitude, popular among their classmates, and her birthday was cause for celebration. Sayaka leaned over as Mukuro sat down.

“Did you know that you guys shared a birthday?”

“Yeah, I noticed last year.” Mukuro shrugged. “That was half the reason why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

Sayaka nodded. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. Just meet me after class, okay?”

Mukuro did. Sayaka practically dragged her to her room, shutting the door behind her before whirling around and giving her a giant hug.

“Happy birthday happy birthday happy birthday!!” Sayaka gave her a final squeeze before pulling away. “I got us cake - store-bought, unfortunately, I ran out of time to bake something and didn’t want questions to be asked - and I got you a little present. What do you wanna do first?”

Mukuro stepped back. “I… this is a lot-“

“Are you okay?” Sayaka sat down on the bed, and Mukuro followed. “I’m sorry if this is too much, I know you said you weren’t big on birthdays. It just… it made me sad to see nobody acknowledge yours last year.”

“It’s… Sayaka, I don’t think I’ve ever had a birthday celebration before.” _For me_ , she silently added.

Sayaka frowned. “Your parents-“

“Gone,” Mukuro interrupted. “It’s just been me, and… I don’t really have any friends- well, I didn’t, anyway, so I just- I’ve never done this before.”

Sayaka froze, lips forming silent words as she struggled to come up with a response. “Mukuro…”

“Don’t,” Mukuro said quietly. “It’s okay, really. I don’t want pity, I just… that’s why this is so weird.”

It was true, to some extent. Every year, it had been Junko’s birthday. Mukuro had bought her presents, given her cake, showered her with love and affection. Those days were some of Mukuro’s fondest memories, because Junko seemed so _happy_ to have her around (not really happy, Junko was never happy, but she could at least pretend), but… it had never been her birthday.

She supposed she wouldn’t mind having it be her birthday for one year. After all, Sayaka might not be alive to see it next year.

The thought struck her like a brick. Sayaka might die. She’d known it logically, but, emotionally speaking, it was… awful. Absolutely awful to think about.

She pulled Sayaka into a hug unprompted, feeling the press of her blue hair against her cheek. Silently, shamefully, her traitorous mind made a decision: She wouldn’t let Sayaka die. The killing game wouldn’t take Sayaka away from her. No matter what.

“Thank you for this,” she mumbled. “Really.”

“It’s… it’s no problem, Mukuro. You’re my best friend.”

“Same to you.” She pulled away. “Uh… cake first, right?”

Sayaka giggled. “I will never say no to cake first.”

They ate cake while they watched a film that neither of them had any real interest in, laughing at a joke that Mukuro wouldn’t have been able to retell if she was asked but that made her sides hurt from cackling. After the movie had ended, all but one of the slices of cake were gone. Sayaka laid across the bed groaning, Mukuro directly beside her.

“Never again,” Sayaka swore.

“I will never eat anything for the rest of my life,” Mukuro agreed. “This is it. I will starve to death if that’s what it takes.”

“It wasn’t our fault! It was just too good…”

“How could something so evil be so _sweet_ …”

Sayaka met Mukuro’s eyes, and they collapsed into giggles.

“Okay, okay.” Sayaka laughed. “Present time?”

“You really didn’t have to-“

“Yes, I did!” Sayaka jumped up and grabbed a small wrapped package, which she handed to Mukuro. “It’s really small, don’t worry. It’s honestly nothing, I just thought it suited you…”

Mukuro carefully unwrapped the present, opening a box to find a small, sparkly, red barrette. She lifted it up in reverence, eyes wide. It was simple, and shiny, and perfect.

“I just… you always have to tuck your hair back behind your ears, and it falls a lot…” as if to demonstrate, Sayaka gently brushed Mukuro’s hair behind her ear with a hand. “And I just thought… I mean, you look good with red.”

“Thank you,” Mukuro whispered. “I… thank you. I love it.”

Sayaka beamed. “Here, let me put it in your hair.”

Mukuro handed her the barrette. Unclipping it carefully, Sayaka inched closer to get a better handle on Mukuro’s face. Tipping her head up with one hand, she gently brushed her hair into the proper position before attaching the barrette. Mukuro could feel every twitch of Sayaka’s finger against her skin in perfect detail, see the careful focus of her expression, hear the shallow breath escaping her lips. The silence was deafening.

The barrette was in place. Sayaka didn’t move.

Mukuro wasn’t sure who moved first - whether Sayaka shifted her hand to cup Mukuro’s cheek or Mukuro rested a hand on Sayaka’s shoulder or Sayaka leaned down or Mukuro closed her eyes - but, in a flash, the two girls were kissing. They kissed slowly, and gently, and with something akin to awe in each of their hearts. It was something precious, something that felt almost important in a way that neither could define.

They stayed close after pulling away, matching smiles on their faces.

“Happy birthday,” Sayaka whispered.

“Same to you,” Mukuro whispered back. “Wait-“

Sayaka’s howls of laughter echoed through the dorm room.

Mukuro didn’t tell Junko.

It was a few months before Junko knocked on her door. A few of the best months of Mukuro’s life.

She knew what Junko had said: That Sayaka was faking it, that any sign that she cared was a lie, that she really just wanted to use Mukuro. She’d memorized it all, whispering it to herself like gospel. But she couldn’t believe it anymore. She just couldn’t. Not when Sayaka held her at night, or squeezed her hand after Junko threw a barbed comment across the room, or told her jokes until she fell over with laughing. Sayaka was the exception, Mukuro was sure of it. Well, her and Makoto, who was the only one who knew about their relationship, and who honestly might have been happier about it than the two girls were.

Sayaka helped Mukuro see things that she’d ignored for years. Sayaka told her that she was pretty, that she was smart, that she was funny, and… somehow, it became easier to believe her. To believe when she said that Junko was cruel. Slowly, genuine rage built up at the thought of her sister. Had she really deserved to be treated like this, all these years? Wasn’t she just as much a victim of Junko as Junko was a victim of the world? She wondered when she’d stopped lying. She wondered if she could start lying to Junko when it was necessary.

Then the Tragedy hit. Mukuro and Sayaka watched the world fall apart together, fear heavy in their hearts (but for opposite reasons). Children’s bodies were incinerated in the trash room. The 77th class was unleashed into the world. Mukuro held Sayaka as she sobbed at the deaths of her bandmates, and Mukuro realized for perhaps the first time something that had whispered at the back of her head for months:

She was a monster.

She’d done this.

It was wrong. Oh, god, it was wrong.

She’d made the wrong call. She couldn’t do this. She had to stop this, now.

When the knock came, Mukuro half-expected Sayaka. Junko’s face at the door was a cold slap in the face in comparison (she guiltily buried the thought and let her in with a smile).

“It’s time.”

Panic froze Mukuro’s lungs. “Can’t we wait a little-“

“No, we can’t. There’s… something’s falling into place tonight, and I can’t hold it back any longer.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you. You’ll find out soon.” Junko frowned. “I thought you’d be happy. Is something wrong?”

“…we can’t.”

Junko’s words came sharp. “We can’t _what_?”

“We can’t do this, Junko. I won’t… I don’t want this.”

“You’ve always wanted this. That was the plan, wasn’t it? It’s been the plan our whole life, why are you backing out now? Why are you betraying me like this- god, Mukuro, don’t you know how this makes me feel?”

“I can’t- I can’t hurt people like this! This isn’t right, Junko, I don’t- I can’t do this to her!”

“Her?” Junko’s eyes snapped to meet Mukuro’s. “Who is this really about?”

Mukuro froze. “No one.”

“Who is this about, Mukuro? The same person who gave you this?” Junko grabbed Mukuro’s barrette, ignoring Mukuro’s gasp of pain as she yanked it from her hair. “It’s Sayaka, isn’t it?” No response. “You trust her?”

“She… I care about her. I’m not going to let her keep hurting.”

“Why not?”

“Junko, this is wrong! We’re doing the wrong thing! We’re the bad guys!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Junko screamed, standing up. “God, Mukuro, what the fuck did you think the point was? We’re the villains! Yeah, we’re the bad guys! But what on Earth makes you think I give a shit about that, or about the world, or about Sayaka, or about you? You don’t want to join me, then fucking die for all I care!”

Mukuro felt the wind get knocked out of her. “You… you said… you said you loved me. You said you were the only person who cared about me.”

Junko must have realized her mistake, because she softened. “I do- I _am_ , you just… you have to understand-“

“Do I?” Mukuro stood. “Do I have to understand anything? You… you make my life Hell, you push me around, you try to twist me into a villain, but… but I’m not! I’m going to be better than you. I’m going to warn everyone!”

“You can’t.”

“You’re going to stop me?”

“Mukuro, I don’t need to. You’re not going to tell anyone anything.” Junko grasped her wrist, her grip like iron. “Because you know what’ll happen to me if you do. Don’t you?” Mukuro fought back tears. “Are you really willing to let them kill me?”

“No, I… I’ll figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Junko said softly, wrapping her arms around Mukuro’s shaking form. “You lose me, or you lose her. You’re really going to choose your friend over your sister?”

“I… Junko, we need to stop it. It’s not too late, the world can still rebuild, we just need to-“

“No,” Junko cut her off. “We can’t.” She hummed in consideration. “You’ve grown a spine, haven’t you? I’d be impressed if it wasn’t so disgusting.” The word sent discomfort crawling down Mukuro’s back. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll cut it out for you.”

Mukuro stepped back, terror sweeping through her. “You- what do you-“

“I didn’t want to do this,” Junko said, voice sweet and heavy with guilt. “But you’re forcing my hand. You know that, right?”

“What-“ Mukuro could barely form the word before everything went black.

Mukuro Ikusaba woke up in a classroom. Folded neatly on a chair next to her was a note, asking her to come to the bathroom to get into costume. After a moment, she remembered: The killing game had begun. She was dressing up as Junko, to help the killing game along from the inside.

She slipped inside the bathroom, to see Junko waiting for her with a smile and an armful of clothes (plus a wig).

“How’d you sleep?”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be knocking _me_ out,” Mukuro grumbled. At Junko’s sharp look, she smiled to let her know she was joking. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Good! Okay, put these on.” Mukuro obeyed. “Now, quick side note: I’ve added another student to the mix, one you guys haven’t met. I can’t explain why she’s there now, but I promise, it’s going to be fun. Just don’t be too suspicious, alright? You’re not supposed to remember any of them, so not much is going to change, but I figured I’d give you a heads up so you don’t say something stupid.”

“Got it. Thanks, Junko.” Mukuro adjusted her wig, before looking to her sister for appraisal.

“Hm.” Junko’s lips twitched. “Well, you don’t exactly match up to me, but it’s a definite improvement.” She squeezed Mukuro’s shoulder, ignoring Mukuro’s flinch. “Go get em.”

Mukuro slipped in among the other classroom, deflecting questions and acting (in her mind) just like Junko. She was sure the impression wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to fool everyone.

“Hey, Junko!” Mukuro turned around to see- oh, this was the girl Junko had mentioned. Her blue hair matched her eyes, and the smile on her face gave Mukuro the impression that she was practically bursting with energy. “I just figured I should say hi. I’m Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Pop Sensation!”

“I know,” Mukuro said immediately (a lie - she’d never heard of Sayaka - but she figured she should’ve, if she was a pop star). She ignored the instinct to apologize, because Junko wouldn’t. “You’re, like, all over the news and junk.”

Sayaka nodded with a smile. “I’ve seen your photos. You’ve got better legs than I imagined.” Mukuro flushed. She was _forward_. “Hey, can I say something weird?”

“Shoot.”

“I feel like I know you from somewhere. Like, personally. Do you get that feeling?”

Mukuro thought for a moment, searching Sayaka’s face. She considered lying, but, ultimately, decided against it.

“No,” she said honestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in my life.”

**Author's Note:**

> I,,, Mukuro honey I'm so sorry
> 
> Anyway Mukuro's response to Sayaka's death is to be extremely confused as to why she's so upset that it hurts to breathe, get irrationally angry because of it, kick the bear, and,,,, well. 
> 
> H a p p y l a t e b i r t h d a y h o n !


End file.
